“Yes, we have just been to tell her.  Mrs. Wheeler had put her to bed, but she went up to give her our message, and she said poor little Tiza began to cry again, and wanted us to tell her mother she would be so quiet if only they would let her come back to Becky.”

“Will they, mother?”

“In a few days, perhaps.  But she is not to see anybody but Mrs. Backhouse for a little while.”

“Oh dear!” sighed Milly, while the tears came into her eyes again.  “We shall be going away so soon, and we can’t say good-bye.  Isn’t it sad, mother, just happening last thing? and we’ve been so happy all the time.”

“Yes, Milly,” said Mr. Norton, lifting her on to his knee.  “This is the first really sad thing that ever happened to you in your little life I think.  Mother, and I, and Aunt Emma, tell you stories about sad things, but that’s very different, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Milly, thinking.  “Father, are there as many sad things really as there are in stories?—­you know what I mean.”

“There are a great many sad things and sad people in the world, Milly.  We don’t have monsters plaguing us like King Hrothgar, but every day there is trouble and grief going on somewhere, and we happy and strong people must care for the sad ones if we want to do our duty and help to straighten the world a little.”

“Father,” whispered Milly, softly, “will you tell us how—­Olly and me?  We would if we knew how.”

“Well, Milly, suppose you begin with Becky, and poor Tiza too, indeed.  I wonder whether a pair of little people could make a scrap-book for Becky to look at when she is getting better?”

“Oh yes, yes!” said Milly, joyfully, “I’ve got ever so many pictures in mother’s writing-book, she let me cut out of her ‘Graphics,’ and Olly can help paste; can’t you, Olly?”

“Olly generally pastes his face more than anything else,” said Mr. Norton, giving a sly pull at his brown curls.  “If I’m not very much mistaken, there is a little fairy pasting up your eyes, old man.”

“I’m not sleepy, not a bit,” said Olly, sitting bolt upright and blinking very fast.

“I think you’re not sleepy, but just asleep,” said Mr. Norton, catching him up in his arms, and carrying him to his mother to say good-night.

Milly went very soberly and quietly up to bed, and for some little time she lay awake, her little heart feeling very sore and heavy about the “sad things” in the world.  Then with her thoughts full of Becky she fell asleep.

So ended Milly’s birthday, a happy day and a sorrowful day, all in one.  When Milly grew older there was no birthday just before or after it she remembered half so clearly as that on which she was seven years old.

CHAPTER X

LAST DAYS AT RAVENSNEST

On Friday morning the children and their father trudged up very early to the farm to get news of Becky.  She had had a bad night Mr. Backhouse said, but she had taken some milk and beef-tea; she knew her father and mother quite well, and she had asked twice for Tiza.  The doctor said they must just be patient.  Quiet and rest would make her well again, and nothing else, and Tiza was not to go home for a day or two.